I bash and scrape the pot against the hard frozen ground to little effect. After a while, I am forced to stop for lack of progress. I make my way around the house to take firewood out of our winter reserve.

I unsurprisingly find that the pile was stolen as well from under the small flat-roof that served to protect it from the weather. I resignedly cut the old rope keeping that structure in place and kick one of the pillars, dislodging it.

The flat-roof crumbles to the ground. I pick one side and drag it over to the grave, making a second trip to gather the pickets that held it. I set that wood pile on fire with a construct in the hope of warming up the ground.

As I watch it burn, Elizabeth grows angry and agitated. She wants to go and there's little I can do to convince her otherwise. I'm already lucky she is no longer pushing us to the symbiont.

I've grown to an understanding with the parasite as I traveled but it bothers me that Elizabeth went to it so quickly. It makes us powerful. It kills us, and how weak are you that you would rely on it to win a fight? We are not weak.

I shake my head and make my way to the well, finding with relief that it's been left alone. I pull the rope tight and start wrapping the rope around my forearm to start lifting the bucket up.

It's heavy and it feels like there's a snake constricting around my arm but I don't give up. I get the bucket above the low-wall and quickly snatch the handle to put it down next to the well.

I bring the cooking pot over to pour the water in, it's dirty but that doesn't matter for what I'm doing since the plan is to boil the water once the fire starts running out of wood.

It'll take hours for the blaze to die down so we have time to make a trip to the village and back. I take a deep breath and straighten my back, letting my rage out to focus on these new circumstances.

First, retribution. I turn north, and start walking. I manage to find the snow-covered path because I know exactly where it is and start following it, finding scattered stones from my room's wall a few dozen meters down the road.

They were put there specifically to block the way, to isolate our home from the village. There are fresh horse and human tracks that turn to go down a small track that leads to two fields to the east, indicating it worked.

The human was wearing the kind of spiked boots that I've seen people in plate use, the foot-marks leave no doubt. That has to have been from Leomi even if I have no idea why she'd be in armor, she passed by during the night or a day ago depending on the weather.

“Rhaaaaaaaaaaa!” I roar.

I check my flow reserve, finding it two-thirds full. Sufficient. I coldly assemble lion's steps and strikes as I start clearing rocks from the road. I leave them in a pile to the side in case my Lady returns to recognize the mistake.

If they cost you and me her, I'll fucking slaughter them. I resume heading to the village with my hand on the hunting knife's handle, toying with the idea of using it but feeling like punching the twits will be far more satisfying.

I follow the horse tracks in reverse until they split from the road. Whoever showed up was turned away from the village or avoided it entirely. I keep going until I reach the wall blocking the street.

It goes from house to house and is about two meters tall, they used mortar but very sparingly and mostly to secure the beams supporting the wall from inside.

I'm pretty sure I could destroy this if I tried, it wouldn't even take a fully powered air-blade if I hit it right, but I don't have the energy to do that or any real reason.

I walk around the village to the west, finding barricaded windows and doors at the backs of the houses. I realize as I go that the houses were specifically built with their backs in a circle in order to make the village easier to defend.

Either way, it doesn't take me any time at all to put two and two together. Our stables were dismantled and the construction materials our family got into debt to buy were used for this shoddy fortification. It's unlikely that it was enough, they probably took down other buildings.

I hear voices inside the village as I pass by the eastern street, which is also walled off. They sound alarmed and directed to our home south, likely because of the smoke rising from the fire.

“What... f... ykz returned?” A woman asks with a bit of panic.

“I doubt the Rykz would light a fire to warn us!” Ms. Conner calls out from afar, likely having decided to respond to all the discussions on the matter at once.

A cold grin appears on my face as I decide to keep my silence, entirely in sync with Elizabeth about the fact that we'll need to be discreet if we want to hunt our preys down without interference.

I shift gears, falling into a lower stance as I stalk around the village in case they took their hunting bows out. I edge away from the wall to have a look at the roofs, finding that a few roofs were cleared of snow.

I keep my eyes on them as I head to the northern street, which allows me to spot four heads peeking from the general shop's roof. One of them is Emily, who is Ms. Conner's daughter, while the other three are Roger, Victor, and a kid whose name I never could remember.

They notice me a moment later, not quite a feat considering I must stick out quite a lot in the snow. Unlike what I thought, they don't scream insults at me, but instead start scrambling down the roof.

Their expressions of panic and fright are quite obviously not directed at me but towards what they know they did, likely behind their families' back. I can't even find the heart to laugh, too furious and eager to catch them.

The matter of the stables can wait since it was done in a clean manner, it's clear that what was done to my room wasn't done by the people in the village. They don't like me, a few hate me, but they wouldn't stoop that low as a community.

I get back to hugging the wall for cover, playing a bit more with the hunting knife as I wonder if they'll make me use it. I walk past carriage tracks coming from the north-east, which could mean it came from Buton's Dungeon but it more likely came from the road running along the coast.

The wheel marks go around the village towards the east, indicating that I went all the way around when I could have gone to the left and found the entrance when I encountered the blocked southern street.

No matter. I forge ahead, keeping my senses peeled. I don't pay attention to the quiet conversations going on inside, or the jingling that tells me that grandfathers and grandmothers are knitting winter clothes regardless of the small commotion over the fire.

No, I track these children's hurried steps. The lack of cries of surprise or admonishment from villagers at these seventeen to nineteen year old running in the streets tells me that they're using small alleys between houses and avoiding windows.

They stop for a brief moment, likely to grab something as they cause wood clattering. They quickly depart again in a sprint to the east. I don't accelerate, considering that it's more important to preserve my combat capability than to hurry towards a confrontation that the kids are clearly as intent on than I am.

Besides, I'm curious to see what they're planning to do before I bash their smirks in. I advance carefully until I hear a door being unlocked a couple dozen meters ahead, past the gate they built on the eastern street.

I try to jog over with the snow muffling the sounds of my footsteps, but unfortunately they start walking out before I can make it there for an ambush. I stop and straighten up, affecting a deceptively casual stance with my hand on my long knife's handle.

The three kids that come out have rudimentary spears in hand with sharp wooden tips but are more crooked than straight, the fourth apparently decided not to show. They definitely made those themselves because they couldn't get access to their families' tools.

Emily is wearing a thick winter dress that causes me to disdain her before I even notice the hesitant way she's holding the weapon. Victor has a rough leather jacket that I've seen him in before, holding his spear too tightly.

Roger has a fur coat that gaping holes, showing it was hastily tanned and further damage with use. His grip on his weapon isn't too tight or loose but he's holding it too far back so he'll lack reactivity and maneuverability in close quarters.

“It's really her.” Emily mutters in a low voice.

“She's even more of a freak now!” Roger calls out. “Look at her!”

“Keep your voice down!” The fourth kid urges from behind the street's gate.

“...” I hold my silence, rather baffled at what I'm seeing. Are they planning to use these pointy sticks?

“Leave!” Victor whispers loudly at me. He sounds like he's trying to chase a wild dog.

“Shoo.” I respond in a mocking tone. “Bad dog!” The kid grows red, which is far from the hard, pale, look I expect from a killer.

“Go away, you hindrance! If it wasn't for you and Buton being cowards, we would have been warned of the insect's invasion!” Roger quietly spits out. They're really afraid to be heard.

“Okay.” I mutter.

I start advancing, considering that the conversation went far enough. They raise their gnarled spears up like clubs in response. Victor protectively steps in front of Emily, pretty much rendering her useless.

“We just got rid of the freakish monsters, we aren't letting a one-armed idiot back in!” Victor seethes.

“You tell 'er mah boy!” His old man murmurs in encouragement from behind the gate as well. Isn't that interesting.

“If you're going to do something evil, at least smile while you're at it.” I tell them, affecting a bloodthirsty grin.

“Let's do this quickly.” Victor urges to the others.

They raise their spears like their clubs and start advancing on me. Their faces fall as I confidently move in, leaning forward to be ready to charge at any moment. I adjust my angle of approach to ensure that the three hinder each other as much as possible when they try to beat me with their silly spears.

Feeling stupid about needing the parasite yet? Bash their noses in, they're just at the right height! I chuckle at Elizabeth's response. The sound causes the kids stop in their tracks.

My smile drops as I lion's step into their range. Emily is further so she's the only one who notices in time to react, unfortunately for her, she can't do anything with Victor in front of her and Roger to her right, which is my left.

I reach out to Roger's spear, grabbing it before the child even thinks to bring it down. I don't try to rip it out of his hands since he could be using his flow to strengthen himself but I leverage it down and to the side to put an obstacle in Victor's way.

I then use an extended lion strike to bring my fist back and punch Roger's nose in a swift, fluid movement. Smack. The fleshy impact is like music to my ears. His head is thrown back by the hit, while I unexpectedly trip forward.

I quickly angle my shoulder and slam it into his chest, throwing him down to the ground. It takes me a moment to realize that I lost my balance because I compensated for a non-existent, yet painful, left arm. I'm too used to leaning in because striking with the parasite pushed me backward.

“Aaah!” Roger yelps.

A silvery flicker tells me that a kick is incoming from my right so I use a half lion's step to raise my leg. I barely manage to bring my foot down on the offending appendage in spite of the fact it should have been easy.

As I pin Victor's foot under my heel, and while he clumsily remembers he has a spear, I shift my forearm to deflect the butt of Emily's spear. I make use of her moment of pause as she tries to figure out what just happened to take hold of her hand.

Her eyes widen as I give her a mean grin and use a lion strike to haul her towards me. I slam my forehead into her left cheekbone, causing her to crumble to the ground, unconscious. I look down on her while watching the idiot whose foot I pinned with the corner of my eyes.

“Dad!” Victor yells out in panic as he fails to pull away from me enough to use his spear.

“Son!” The older man replies. “Stay away from him you crazy bitch!”

I see red as they are the reason why Father has yet to be buried. I lion strike my elbow into his side, breaking one or several of his ribs with a dry crack. He drops while screeching in pain. I kick him in the head, knocking him straight out.

Crack. I fall forward, experiencing a harsh pain in my lower back. I immediately lion's step myself further ahead and turn around as I get back up. I find Roger with blood running down his nose like a waterfall and a broken spear in his hands.

His cheeks are deathly pale. He runs away as soon as my eyes lock in with his. I try to run after him but the hurt in my back causes me to stumble. I gather myself and go through the constructs I could assemble to take him out.

Unfortunately, there are none I can use with a bit over a third of a portion of energy. The kid runs to the door they used to exit the village, rushing inside the house and slamming it behind himself.

I frown and start walking after him while unsheathing my hunting knife, trying to figure out how I'll get that door open if he locked it. Yet, the sound of a large bar being slid off the gate on the eastern street behind me causes me to pause.

“You're dead, you whore! You better not run!” Victor's father stupidly threatens.

We might need to. No. We won because they were so sloppy it wasn't even a fight, we can't even use the armor-piercing construct right now and using the lightning one would be a terrible idea. Lion strikes are enough, we can slice them to bits.

“I know a whore, she's countless times worthier of life than you'll ever be.” We utter in a flat voice. “Draw a weapon on me and find your end.”

“You little freak!” The man shrieks.

“What's going on here!” Ms. Conner's voice thunders down.

A commotion arises on the other side of the gate as the villagers gather, likely from Roger's bloody nose and Victor's father's frantic attempts at opening the gate, or maybe the screams from earlier.

“That freak Jessica! She came back and attacked our kids for no reason!” The old man exclaims.

“Quickly, help me open the gate!” Ms. Conner exclaims, paying little attention to the man but clearly worried.

“You can get out from the house on your left, it isn't properly barricaded.” I speak up.

“Jessica are you all okay?” Ms. Conner asks.

“They'll survive, I just roughed them a bit.” I answer.

Must be pretty embarrassing for the old man to realize he lost his cool so much he forgot he could've gotten out that way. Wish he had figured it out, it's going to be impossible to lay him flat unless he attacks first now.

I hear footsteps from people rushing into the house while others start working on opening the gate. A quick glance at the two knocked out children confirms they'll stay out for a while longer.

I start toying with my hunting knife while I wait and catch my breath, spinning the small guard on my palm. Ms. Conner soon emerges to rush over to Emily with a hard worried look as she notices the small bleeding and swelling wound on her daughter's face.

Behind her emerge a few villagers who glare at me, the miller and a cattle farmer are about the only two I have any familiarity with. Both shouldn't even be in the village, even at this time of year, but it's not really surprising that they are if they feared the Rykz.

Ms. Conner starts assembling a healing construct, probably being very careful as she's taking a lot of time to do so. I hear Victor's father arguing his side as they work on opening the gate, the noise making it hard to pick up what they're saying. I do catch the sound of the old temple guard's voice.

“We were only camping!” Roger barks out in protest. “That freak is crazy!”

“Come over and say that to my face, coward.” I shout back.

Silence falls over the crowd on the other side. I doubt what I said directly caused that to happen. The gate opens slowly, first revealing the old Templar with a new uniform with his sword to his waist.

He was likely held prisoner in Meria because I've rarely seen him with his weapon or such a pristine silver lion tabard. It would make sense for the Order to focus what few resources they have to regain their reputation in the more remote provinces who likely felt abandoned, logical since they were.

He turns accusing eyes towards me, almost provoking me to rage out. Instead, I switch from playing with my hunting knife to aggressively switching between standard to reversed grip with swift flickers of my wrist.

“Barging in like you own the place and causing a fight!” The old man erupts. “Have you no shame?!”

“Ha.” I chuckle. “Who asked you to arbiter this dispute?” I ask in return.

“I am the Templar!” He utters back, turning red.

“Considering I'm the one who was attacked, I'm the one who should be making the demand for arbitration. I have not, stand aside.” I coldly argue.

“I saw you strike first through the cracks!” Victor's father spouts out.

“You rushed us!” Roger adds.

“They came out with spears.” I counter with finality.

I run my gaze over the crowd. Half the village apparently gathered and they look more confused than angry. Good. I spot a pair of Hospitaliers at the back of the crowd, looking lost and uncomfortable. They're clearly out of their depth.

The old temple guard tries to speak up again, likely trying to meddle his way into this again. I cut him off and explain what happened and why with my eyes trained on Roger as I recount what I found home.

The kid, Roger, grows smaller and smaller as he retreats on himself, confronted by the village's outrage. In the end, his father seizes his ear while one of his cousins takes hold of his arm to drag him away as the family tries to flee the sheer embarrassment of the situation.

“Hold it right there.” I shout, stopping them in their tracks. “I'm not done with any of them yet.” I add in a sharp voice.